In
February 1989 Barbara and I visited Ladakh once more. The four weeks
after Tibetan New Year — on the same date as Chinese new Year:
the first New Moon after Western New Year — is a holy
month for all Buddhists. As Faisula (whom you'll meet shortly) said,
"during this month we don't work, we visit our friends, drink
chang, make babies, and go to the festivals." The
festivals were also our destination

Once
upon a time all Cham Dances at the monasteries, except Hemis,
had taken place during the Winter. Now more and more monasteries have
followed the success of Hemis Gompa in attracting tourists. Because
of the decline of the local village communities, tourism has become
the primary source of income for the impoverished gompas. And
tourists don't visit Ladakh in Winter — we were two of maybe
twelve foreign tourists in Leh — which was the second reason
for going to Ladakh in February. The third was that I had seen most
intriguing photographs of the oracles appearing during the Cham
Dances at Matho and Stok in mid-February.

Oracles
once were an important part of Tibetan religious and worldly life:
All major decisions of the Tibetan government were based on the
utterances of the State Oracle at Nechung near Lhasa, and many daily
affairs were decided by the lesser oracles in the gompas. Nechung has
long been shut down by the Chinese, and the State Oracle at
Dharamsala has lost most of its power, so the long tradition at Matho
and Stok has become an anthropological curiosity.

Advised
by John Sanday and Corneille Jest the trip had been meticulously
planned. Corneille Jest had recommended Sonam Jacob's "Indus
Guest House," as it was to turn out, one of only three hotels
open during February: The reason? Sonam was Christian, one of two
sons of the preacher of the Herrenhuter
Mission (Moravian
Brothers) which was founded by the Silesian-German
missionary-anthropologists Marx and Francke in the 1880s and the
community still counts some 50 families in Leh. Sonam's brother
operated the other guest house, and the third hotel was Chinese.
There would be no restaurants, but Sonam would cook for us.....

We
flew from Srinagar and because at this time of the year the air was
cold, we encountered no difficulties or delays in the otherwise
precarious landing at almost 3000 meters. This photo is a view of the
Karakoram flying above the Indus Valley. Despite that some of the
mountains (K2?) in the background are 8000 meter high, this picture
is much less impressive than the view of 5000-m-high Mt.
Kazbeg! One sees that the snow line on the Tibetan side of the
Himalayas lies well above 3500 meter. The sun is strong and the air
thin, any snow sublimates tracelessly and quickly — which makes
living at this altitude possible in winter.

Leh

The
familiar view of Leh and its Royal Palace from the roof of the Indus
Guest House.

Sonam
Jacob and his niece Drölma who together operated the guesthouse
in winter. Sonam is stacking and lighting our stove. After the wood
had caught fire he threw some briquettes on top and carried
the smoking stove into our room. For the next two hours the thing
glowed red, and we had to retreat into the farthest corner of the
place. After another couple of hours the room temperature was back to
4 C (40 F).... But it was very dry, and we had brought excellent
sleeping bags, thermal underwear, and down-overcoats, we did not
freeze. Outside, the temperature was - 25 C (-13 F) at night, and in
the sun during the day, when no wind was blowing, Barbara's
thermometer went up to + 12 C (54 F)! Every third night we had a
flickering of electricity, on other nights we read by candles.

Our
room. I had an agreement with Sonam that Drölma would
deliver half a bucket of hot water every night. When the stove was
glowing we would strip and wash each other standing in the warm water
with a sponge, which I had brought especially for this purpose. After
a few days Sonam began to complain that we cost him too much fuel. I
offered more money, but it was not that, his propane supply was going
down too fast. They bathed only once a year on Buddha's birthday, but
that was all right, because of the dryness they didn't sweat —
besides they were vegetarians. The dirt was but dust, and dust was
good for you. The first thing the women would do with a new-born,
they would smear him with earth-dust to get him used to it. —
Oh yes, we had a bathroom with a shower without water and a toilet
into which we had to pour our bucket of warm water every day. No
problem, the toilet froze again a little later.

The
solarium on the second floor. —Like in Tibet proper the common
room has large windows towards the south. During the day it would get
comfortably warm, at night for dinner Sonam lit a fire in the stove.
Sitting on the floor at the low tables we had our meals here. Drölma
did all the cooking on a simple propane-stove next to our bathroom.
She replaced Sonam's Buddhist wife who with their children spent the
winter in Srinagar, it was too costly to bring all food and fuel for
the long winter months (November-June) from Kashmir. Sonam had a
supply of cauliflower, potatoes, carrots, and cabbage laid down in
the frost-free basement, and supplemented by rice and colored by
various spices Drölma would manage a different meal every night
for the four or six guest of the house.

Main
street in Leh. The mosque is at the end of the street, the gompa left
around the corner, and the deserted royal castle rises above.

At
the other, eastern end of town and main street is the "caravansary"
— the bus station and the town chörten. The Ladakh Range
is seen in the distance to the south across the Indus Valley.

The
big prayer wheel. The bucket contains motor oil which the faithful
poured onto the bearing to keep the cylinder turning easily —
thank God, it doesn't have an electric motor drive yet.

Two
women and a child on the way to the gompa....

...
People milling in front of the gompa. The Lamas' chanting at night
was now amplified— to compete with the muezzin's singing at the
mosque.... Half-way through our stay (at full moon) a complete lunar
eclipse darkened the night, which increased the Lamas' chanting to a
feverish pitch....

Children
along the path to Sankar, a meditation retreat near Leh. Once a year
the children of Leh beg in large numbers along this path. When one
approaches, they begin to sing fervently "O mani padme hum! O
mani padme hum!...." and cheer loudly if one gives them a couple
of rupies or sweets. These were quite secular rascals playing
Trick-or-Treat.

Ali
Sayyed Shah, the graceful, old photographer of Leh at the Moslem
restaurant below the mosque of Leh. Ali was born in Kashgar, the son
of a merchant of princely Arabian descent. As a young man he had
worked as a photographer for Sven Hedin (he showed us a series of
photographs of S. H. in Leh) and later for Shipman, the British
consul in Kashgar. During the bloody Uigur uprisings against the
Chinese in the fifties he fled over the Karakoram Pass to Leh and
never saw Chinese Turkestan again. He took us to his dark "studio"
in the quarter behind the mosque, where we were allowed to rummage
through boxes filled with priceless photographs of fifty years. I
bought a few and Barbara sent them as postcards to friends, but one
should have negotiated for his glass-negatives, rare images which the
people at the Getty Foundation would have loved to own.... Now he has
probably died.

One
day Barbara climbed the castle peak. She got me as far as the
castle's pediment from where this view east was taken.

The
night had been overcast and the town was covered with snow on the
following, very cold morning. The busses had to be revived by
lighting fires under their gear boxes and engines. We decided to go
to the village of Sabu and walk back to Leh.

Women
waiting for the bus in the first sun.

Sabu
Gompa

Sabu,
a small village across a low ridge east of Leh, is famous for its
shaman healer, who sucks one's illness out of one's body — as
black gook— with a copper tube.... This is Sabu Gompa. It was
heavenly quiet and nobody had yet left any foot marks in the pristine
snow...

...except
for the tracks of the bus we had come with. We walked all the way
down to the main road along the Indus where another bus back to Leh
eventually picked us up.

Shey

On
the way to Hemis the main road skirts the rock of the royal castle of
Shey and this relief of the five Tathagatas or Djani Buddhas. It
originates from the 10th century, the time of the second
Buddhification of Tibet which proceeded from Kashmir through Ladakh,
Thöling and Tsaparang to Central Tibet. I had long wanted to
have a closer look at this rare monument of the early Mahayana, and
so we got off the bus and walked back across the sacred Nyarma
Cremation ground between Shey and Tikse.

The
cremation ovens at Nyarma below Tikse. Different from Tibet, where
the dead are fed to vultures (Sky Burial), they are cremated in
Ladakh. The corpse is bound to a wooden sedan chair in sitting
position. To save precious wood the chair is placed over the fire in
the oven. Burial costs, which naturally also include a feast for
relatives and friends, are covered by societies to which the deceased
and his family had belonged during his life time. The ashes of the
deceased are mixed with clay by the monks, formed into dozens of
tsatsas — miniature, conical stupas, stamped with a
relief of Amitabha at the bottom, and stored in one of the chörten
in the background, from which they spill, if the chörten is
broken open.

Nyarma
was a famous Buddhist university which played an important role in
the reintroduction of Buddhism to Tibet during the middle of the 11th
century.

Tikse
Gompa

Tikse
Gompa is the oldest Gelugpa (Yellow Hat) monastery (~1420) in Ladakh.
Strategically located on a mountain spur it was as much a
demonstration of the power of Lhasa in Western-Tibet as an example of
a strictly-reformed religious institution among various,
half-reformed Red-Hat Kargyü sects which to this day resent
Gelugpa dominance. Nevertheless Tikse has found the money to renovate
and expand the monastery. The new red building on the right now boast
a brand-new two-story-high Buddha...

...and
this exemplary Wheel-of-Life greets the visitor at the entrance.

Barbara
warming herself in the sun, reading our notes on Ladakh.

An
old Amitayus stele in the Tsokhang of Tikse.

The
head of the new, gilded Tikse Buddha — which is two meters
high. On the second story one stands immediately in front of his
blue(!) eyes. — Click on the image to get a feel for the
experience.

Lamayuru
and Alchi

I
wanted to take Barbara to Alchi and to Lamayuru and after a long
negotiation over the price hired Faisula and his taxi to drive us and
two other foreigners (whom I persuaded to share the price). Being
Moslem Faisula has a Buddhist wife. We met her among their five naked
children in a small adobe house at the edge of town. He turned out to
be a most cheerful companion, telling us many stories about his and
Ladakhi life.

A
group of women "repairing" the road to Lamayuru under the
supervision of one man — who didn't move a finger to help
them.

A
band of ragamuffins roaming the village next to Lamayuru Gompa.

The
Sumtsek of Alchi in the charming yard. The German tour-groups being
gone, it served as winter refuge for animals and their newly arrived
off-spring. Unfortunately Barbara was so cold by the time we reached
Alchi that she hardly remembers any of the beautiful murals in the
Sumtsek.

The
Matho Nanrang

The
day of the Matho — the only Sakyapa gompa in Ladakh —
Nanrang, the Cham Dances with the oracles, was beautiful and sunny.
Hundreds of pilgrims from all parts of the valley walked up the steep
hill in the morning.

Barbara
taking a breather on the ascent. The thermos filled with hot tea
saved our life many times on our wanderings.

Young
women in the monastery yard...

...
and crusty old women fiercely defending their perch. The place was
incredibly crowded and the Abbot, who had just returned from India
and was late, made everybody wait for hours. Eventually we were
pushed and shoved out of the yard, and spent most of the day talking
to little groups of pilgrims in the sun. We left late in the
afternoon having never seen the dances or the oracles of Matho....

Two
young Ladhaki girls eagerly discussing their life and expectations
with us.

Two
women on a circumambulation of one of the mani
walls — one must
walk keeping the sacred object, wall or chörten, to one's
right...

Stok
Guru Setchu

Redoubling
our patience and resolve a week later we took a taxi to Stok on a
cold and overcast day.

Young
monks on the roof of their housing preparing for the dances.

Two
Yellow-Hat clarinet players. Stok, the monastery near the present
abode of the last Queen of Ladakh, is a reformed Gelugpa institution.

Children
in the monastery yard.

A
young woman...

...
and group of old beggars who walk from festival to festival.

In
the Stok Guru Setchu — the Mystery Play is, like in Hemis,
honoring Guru Padmasambhava's conversion of Ladakh to Buddhism —
appear several characters who are not part of the cast at Hemis:
Their most prominent is a richly dressed Stag, framed in the photo by
Yama the personification of death and Pehar(?), as a fierce
manifestation of Padmasambhava. The Stag is probably (I have
never found an expert description of the Stok dances) a beneficial
manifestation of Padmasambhava, because in Stok (and in other Mystery
Plays elsewhere in Tibet) the Stag will cut up the Linga on the first
day. The Stag is undoubtedly a hold-over from pre-Buddhist, shamanic
Bön rites, possibly of Central Asian origin.

The
dance of the Stag around the Linga...

...which
he cuts up with a phurbu
— the magic dagger of Padmasambhava.

After
this act — or so I remember — is an intermission during
which the masks retreat into the Tsokhang for a lengthy chanting
service.

A
lonely Lama meditating in the Dukhang.

Barbara
at a chörten above the gompa being watched by two curious
children.

After
the intermission the masks re-exit from the Dukhang — and
the two oracles first appear (on the left). In trance or half-drunk
they begin to run around shouting cryptic prophecies of the future —
and, as one local explained, wild obscenities. Everybody gasps and
ducks. The two are well-known men from the village, who have been
performing this role for decades. They have spent several weeks in
solitary meditation. Supposedly liberal amounts of chang —
Tibetan barley beer also play a role.... The older oracle carries a
curved saber with which he hits anyone who does not flee from his
path. To the great cheer of the bystanders I was hit, with the
saber's broad side, twice in the hour that followed. My heavy down
parka protected me.

The
younger of the two men. Each has a retainer who follows the oracle to
prevent him from physical harm. In one scene, to the sighs of the
audience, the older oracle cut his tongue — without drawing
blood.

The
two run precariously close to the edges of the roofs of the monastery
and jump from roof to roof, always anxiously followed by their
retainers.

On
the second day the oracles run from lhato
to lhato —
sacred trees and chörtens — in the countryside surrounding
the gompa.... We did not return for the second day, we were too cold
when hitch-hiking on a crowded truck we reached Leh and our room that
night.

The
day ended with a triumphant dance of Padmasambhava's fierce
manifestation....

...
and a resigned Yama preempted of his power.

Evening
light near Stok.

Srinagar

After
two weeks in Leh — Sonam grumbling why we stayed so long, his
other foreign guests had long left — we flew back to Srinagar
without any problems.

The
house boats at the entrance to Dal Lake in the snow. We took a room
at the Hotel Welcome
along the lake front and promptly ran into an old acquaintance —
Mohammed from the Ark
Royal! His son had
spotted us already before we went to Leh, and they were on the
look-out for us. Mohammed, visibly delighted, obliged us to come to
his house boat for tea...

...The
beautiful daughter, whom I had destined for Cornelius, had turned
into a resigned married woman but had produced a son, who sits on his
grandmother's lap. The daughter, in an aside, meekly begged Barbara
for some perfume... A sad case.

And
here is her brother who had fallen into the lake on Cornelius' and my
departure. At least he looked sharp and hopeful. Notice the baskets
under his and grandma's skirt? This is how one keeps warm on a
Srinagar house boat. The basket contains a clay pot with glowing
charcoal! They pushed two of them under Barbara's coat. Reportedly
the cause of many a genital cancer....

And
then the heating broke down at our fancy hotel....! We had been
happily taking a luxurious hot bath every day.... We put our thermal
underwear and our down coats back on and watched the evening settle
over Srinagar from our third-floor window....